Shroud of Shadows
by Flame Falcon
Summary: Knight Commander Geoffrey awakens in Castle Crimea after his defeat by the hands of an unknown foe, but all is not well in the home of his King and Queen. Strange things stir in the darkness and deadly things wait in the shadows for their chance to strike...
1. Failure

**Here I am with another story, a multi-chapter one of all things, in what I hope to continue is a series of stories in the Tellius timeline. I will hopefully try to have a chronological list on my profile before long. As for the story itself, I am experimenting with the first person point of view as well as writing from a perspective of a character which usually falls on the boundaries of enjoy or despise with little wiggle room for in-between.**

 **Well, enough of my ramblings, please enjoy!**

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" _ **I am the undying**. **I am the lord of death incarnate**_."

He towered over me, this monster of living metal and skinless flesh. In the cold winter's grasp, I could see that he neither drew nor released any breath. Each word is slow and calculated with the amount of force placed behind it. His followers are soulless puppets of armor, only their leader had some form of a body inside of him.

A red gemstone was embedded in his helmet, engravings circled his head like a crown, silver torcs dangled from his arms and an elegant azure robe hung from his entire body that seemingly changed design that covered his mighty plated armor. Here I fought a king of the dead, an alien anachronism from a long forgotten culture full of the darkest anima.

Flayed Ones we referred to them as, and this regal status only spurred me on.

"We are the slayer of lords!" I spat the words at him as I drew my sword from the sheath on my side. My trusted lance laid shattered near me, but my dao blade was still considerably powerful. It crackled with electrical energy as I exposed the enchanted edge to the raw air. The lance that was a gift from my queen years ago, much to my shame, laid humbled in the snow that whipped around us. I would ask for my forgiveness later, I had this creature's head to take.

I attacked, my country and queen's name on my lips like an unsheathed weapon. He and I, we fought alone in this ice encrusted battlefield. All around me, my fellow knights engaged similar monsters of steel and blood. For three days we have fought against each other in this winter wasteland. The mountain city of Volus burned, the black smoke of oiled wood and burning fat churned the air, a testament to the destructive handiwork of these unknown creatures.

We had come here with the fears of a nation's invasion. Volus was a very loyal city, having paid their taxes on time with no sign of resentment. When nothing came this season, His Lordship and Her Majesty ordered me to find out what happened with Knights of my choosing. When we had arrived, the slaughter was nothing any of us had seen before in this time of peace. These monsters crawled over heaps of the slain, many wore the skins of the slain. From there on, we fought each other with a furious assault. Now I stood as one leader against their own.

None interfered, I was insistent upon this. I had drawn only my sword, and would engage it thusly. For my victory to have any meaning, this was how it had to be. Even terms, his crackling obsidian edge glaive matched against my venerable Tempest Dao. Our respected weapons clashed again and again, the opposite energies that pulsed between the very air. We fought each other with a similar style of feints and attacks of opportunity.

Viridian fire encompassed him like a halo for an angel of death, and my ultramarine blue armor offered a stark contrast against it. I fought with a vengeful fury, eager to right the many wrongs I saw all around me. He fought with seemingly millennium of experience, for each strike I tried to land, he took advantage of the slightest crack in my aegis of defense. Soon, my dedication for the kill gave way to the need just to defend myself.

My blade had served me for the two and a half decades of life I breathed, but in the end, it was not found wanting.

It was I.

During our savage duel, his boot brought up a dune of snow, distracting me for the briefest of moments. In that moment, he struck. The glaive cleaved down, rupturing my armor with a cry that drowned out my own. Blood filled my mouth and I collapsed into the devouring snow. I, Geoffrey, Commander of the Crimean Royal Knights, Warden of Melior, Lord of Watch and High Vizier of Delbray, fell.

As the shroud of shadows wrapped around me like a burial veil, I heard the monster's voice one last time.

" _ **I am the omega**_."

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I came around coughing a briny healing tonic, spraying the inside of my reification mask. My hands and arms were tied down so that they could properly set and my eyes were covered with a cold and wet cloth. I roared and thrashed against the bed upon which I was laying, my muscles and nerves suddenly aflame. "Release me!" The words came out like a choke, but I could hear the authority placed behind those words.

Seconds later, the cloth was removed from my face and the mask with the feeding reed was removed, causing me to further gag on the sensation as well as the revolting taste of the vulnerary. The buckles on the belts that held me in a crucifixion like pose was removed I was back in the world of the living, and once my eyes had adjusted to the early afternoon sunlight, I murderously stared down the eyes of my apothecary.

"Welcome back, Knight Commander."

My face lathered with healing fluids and spit, I scowled. "Mist."

She had the good grace to nod in reply. She was dressed in the spotless white with laces of roses covering every limb exit to show her status and rank as chief healer of the castle. Her hair was long brown, flowing free save two partial braids on each side of her head. Her blue eyes tried to convey some sympathy, but I knew that those were fragile eyes who had already seen too much death in her short lifetime. At the corner of my vision, I saw her infant child swaddled on a table. It was apparent that Mist had done all she could to heal my injuries, all she could do now to see if her training saved me.

There were shadows all around me in this wing of the hospital of Castle Melior. Shadows that suggested the various instruments and devices the Crimean healers employed in the service of preserving life. The air reeked of medicinal incense and a fine sheen covered the slate floor. It was clean, cold; a desolate place. How many had come through these halls bloody and broken? How many had arrived and never left? The answer was the same, always too many.

I made to rise, but Mist held out her hand in the universal signal telling me to cease my action. "Do not think you can keep me here forever."

That hand then became a placatory gesture. "At least let me check first." She picked up her healing staff and some warm light passed over my body. I continued to stand the discomfort a little while longer, though every fiber of my being demanded that I was to be released from the bed. Cramps began to form so I clenched my teeth to the point of shattering to hide the uncomforting feeling.

Once she was done, Mist offered her hand to me, which I politely shook away. I sat up on the bed and cracked my neck along with various parts of my body. It was slightly painful, but I needed to feel that pain to realize I was alive. Once I was finished with my self-medication, I stood and realized that I was naked, save a loin cloth. Mist held out a Sherwood green tunic to give me some decency, though I could see the faint rosy blush on her cheeks as she was clearly enjoying the sight of my trained body.

It would not have been very chivalric of me to keep a married woman waiting, so I took the cloth before I winced as I felt my injury that landed me in her care. I glanced down at the angry scar that puckered my flesh. It ran along my side, wide and deep was the cut. Any deeper and I would have been off to join my ancestors. "It is a wonder that you are alive after that injury, much less walking." She said with genuine surprise in her voice.

I threw the cloth on and growled. "I'll do more than that." It was a vengeful promise. I then realized that I did not know anything after I had fallen. Assumptions and fears rushed through my head as both of my hands rushed through my sky blue hair with uncertainty. Once my robe was placed on, I turned to Mist with a look of urgency. "Mist, tell me. What of Volus? Were the Knights victorious?"

Her face, usually bright and cheery even in the face of a raging tempest, darkened. "After you fell, Oscar and Kieran placed their differences aside tried to rally the Knights but they severely underestimated the foes they fought that day. It was an admirable effort but they were forced to evacuate. Volus is lost to us."

Her voice cracked as she said the next part. "So too fifty Knights…"

I clench my fists so hard the knuckles crack. I look around for something to vent my anger at and the nearby window provided the perfect target. I slam my fist against it, putting an impact web on the clear glass. Had I my blade or lance at hand, I would have done far more than that.

I was about to ask Mist for more information and where we would strike next against these bastards before a new voice entered the fray. " _I had to see it for myself_."

A brother of Crimea- **the** brother of Crimea depending on who you would ask came into the light of day. He was fully clad in the armor of service. Dark green plate, a plumed helmet with the fur of an ancient animal he had just removed from his head to be placed in the crook of his arm, a ceremonial gladius strapped to his left leg. Gilt-edged shoulder guards and breastplate shone in the lambent sun beyond us, and his war-plate was festooned with the laurels of his many years of vaunted service.

"Renning." I bowed my head out of respect, though the cold look in eyes of the brother of the late king Crimea showed none for me. His stern expression only increased as the scars across his face knitted with the age lines.

"Geo." I hated that he used an abbreviation of my first name, though I used his own first name before him which I knew he hated without a title.

We were rivals, he and I. He had taken up the position of Knight Commander when even my older sister Lucia was but a babe in arms. After he was presumed dead seven years ago in what is being referred to as The Mad King's War, I took his mantle of leadership and lead the Royal Knights to glorious victory time after time. His return should have been accompanied by his former position, but I was not going to just hand it over to him.

Since then, Queen Elincia had done admirably in her attempts to mediate between her uncle and myself, her former suitor. In name and rank we were equals, though in practice I believe he was favored more than I. This was done due to the fact Renning was blood related to her and she had an inkling more care for him than myself. Elincia is a great deal of many things. Petty is not one of them.

Renning and I were further rivals because our war philosophy was very different. Renning was a blunt but effective adherent to the traditional codex of battle, whereas I interpreted our ancestors' teachings to the situations and was less predictable. Some have said that I was reckless. Only Renning had ever said so to my face.

The smile Renning wore was cold and far from inviting. But he looked as if he had more to say rather than he was to check up on me. Out with it then.

"I wish that I could say I could have come only to see the dead come back to life. At first I believed that the sister of Ike had begun to practice the macabre art of necromancy." He gestured to me. Mist could sense the tension in the air and apparently her infant child could as well as it began to make the grunt before a crying storm. Mist appeared to be torn between attending her child or to act as a voice of reason in this brewing storm. I made a gesture with my off hand, telling her to attend to her child. I didn't want her to be caught up in two egos clashing against each other, any outrage he had was to be aimed against me and me alone.

Renning continued. "But I cannot. King Tibarn and Queen Elincia demands your presence. They want to know why you were defeated at Volus and returned to the capital of their kingdoms in ignominious defeat."

I was about to respond but I had to bite back my words. An outburst here, in front of Mist and her child, would serve no good purpose. "Demands my presence? Am I to be held responsible for this defeat? I know that whilst I stood, the warriors of the Sacred Rose were not routed."

Renning refused to be baited. He was ridged and a pain in the ass for that fact. "You will have six hours to prepare your testimony."

I could feel another strand of my patience struck by the way his words were like a knife, sharp and precise. "Testimony? Am I to be judge then?"

My rival betrayed no emotion, though I doubt that he did not take any pity pleasure at my discomfort. "The defeat at Volus was disastrous, Geoffrey. Questions must be answered and you were the one in command-"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand and began to the exit. "Then let us go now then. I am in control of my memory and do not _need_ six hours to realize that. I have nothing to hide."

Renning stamped in front of me, and planted his armored bulk between me and the door. "Cease this wanton disregard for royal decrees, Geoffrey! Your reckless behavior and idealism is what have brought you to this place!" He regained his control, though it took a great deal of effort to place on the mask of command once again when he first addressed me from the shadows. "It seems you have yet to learn that lesson."

"Do not address me as if I am some sort of neophyte." My voice held warning and I leaned in closer. "As they have on countless occasions, my swift actions prevented an earlier defeat. I prefer to win hard battles, not to reap the hollow glory of easy campaigns. Next time you behold my banner on the field, look at the victories upon its silk and then look to your own."

I goaded him out of his desire to return the same disrespect I had just shown him. I vaunted Renning and the elite cohort of Knights who rode into battle with him. They were exemplars of martial prowess and devotion to the throne. I respected them as if they were my own men and as some of the best fighters the nation had ever seen. That did not mean I had to like them.

Renning had every right to strike me and much to my irritation he did not. Though when he spoke through clenched teeth, I knew he had come close. "Six…hours." He spun around with a flurry of the purple cape adorn on his back as he exited the room without another word. Mist released a deep breath she must have been holding as she cradled little Elena close to her bosom. She stepped forward and looked like she was about to say something from her motherly position, but she shook her head and gave her professional opinion.

"You are fit to resume your duties, Knight Commander." I wiped my face clean of the remaining of the foul liquid that was her recipe for healing, and I flicked it to the floor as I still seethed with anger from Renning's encounter.

"Tell me Mist, where would I find my armor and weapons?"

"The blacksmiths have been working endlessly trying to repair them. I understand that there has been much damage done to the lance and war plate in particular. If I would hazard a guess, I would say that they would be in the Royal Armory, East Wing. I trust you know how to get there."

I wiped the rest of my face off with my tunic sleeve, and grunted a word of thanks to her as I do so. I said goodbye to Elena, who griped my finger tightly. If that was any indication that it would be how strong she would grip a sword, then she would make a fine sword mistress in the fullness of time.

I then turned and made my leave for the weapon foundry. Something in the penumbra around the apothecarion had set me on edge and I desired the return of my war trappings as soon as possible.


	2. What Remains

**Surprisingly I am back with another update. Hopfully I can keep this pace going for the remainder of this story.**

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The Castle of Melior was a looming work of architecture, a near impregnable bastion in times of war, the slab sided barracks of the Royal Knights, and the seat of governance since the creation of Crimea. Beneath the castle, her armories, battle cages, and shrines to the legends of old are many. We all worship them in our own way, these temples of violence and honor. I knew where to find the east wing of the Royal Armory easily enough.

Now the castle stood as the palace of two mighty empires, one beorc and the other laguz, united in the bonds of matrimony. The name had not changed but its occupants had. As I made my way to the forges, I passed several members of the Bird tribes who had recently taken up residence in the halls. Many were artisans, having spent their extended lifespan in the pursuit of a trade. Few found enjoyment inside the dark and heated armories, those that did were experts in their craft. I hoped that they were the ones who attended to my shattered war plate.

I pushed open the massive doors to the armory and breathed in the smell of honest labor and fire. The smell of the earth being crafted and honed to the use of mortals racked my nostrils. Unlike the medical wing, the armory was dark but it radiated warmth. As far as I could see, there was smoke, flame, ash and the taste of metal. Wizened masters of the fire tended the forges and their precious metals inside while hammer armed servants battered away at the steel.

Here, the artifacts of war were crafted and repaired.

In times of peace, these forges were used to create ploughs and tools for the fields. However, since news of Volus, the industry of bloodshed took over once more. On a large dais in the center, a division of blacksmiths filed the edges to the payloads of siege weapons while incense to soothe the individual spirits of the metal was scattered over the pieces. Upon a mighty anvil, a team of three men swung their hammers down on a sword in perfect unison.

All of this paled in comparison, however, for closest to me lay a magnificent suit of artificer armor and weapons. Their polish shined in the light of the forges, and they looked every bit like the tools I needed for my occupation of war.

It was good to see them again. It would feel even better to don them.

A tall man with a thick blond ponytail was hunched over my armor with a hammer and chisel to carve in the runes of warding into my repaired armor as well as my many battle honors. He was no blacksmith, he lacked the muscle to swing the hammers needed to shape the flesh of the earth. He was dressed in a flowing black and green robe which showed his position as an arch sage, perhaps the most acclaimed in Elincia's royal court. He is also the rumored sire of my nephew, though I do hold reservations that my older sister Lucia would let him into her embrace, such was her distaste for his jester-like theatrics.

He has just finished to inlay patterns of gold into the victory laurels upon my helmet. With his work done, I know that he would not mind me interrupting. "Bastian." I made my presence known and the Count rose from his work and clasped my outstretched arm in a gesture of good will.

"Nobel Knight Commander Geoffrey, as I live and breathe it is a summer's day to hear that you have fought the cold encompassing grasp of death and won." His theatrics, usually a pain in my ear to hear, were surprisingly a welcomed sound. It was good to be back in the land of the living. "I have almost finished my dutiful ministrations to your armor and instruments of war. I hope you will be pleased to hear, that like thyself, they yet live."

I have always found it strange how some individuals believed that there were spirits inside of inanimate objects such as weapons and books. Bastian had not only overseen my armor's repair, he had been soothing the individual spirits that made up the metal in my armor and blades. It seemed unusual, but then again I have seen many strange sites in my two and a half decades of life. I have seen the dead rise from the grave, an entire continent turned to nothing but stone, and a mere man slay a goddess. I suppose I should be a little more open minded about such seemingly impossible things.

"Indeed I am, Bastian. I look forward to relishing the feel of my armor on my body and a weapon-" I stopped as my eyes focused on a large group of laborers at the back of the chamber moving between rows and rows of tables. I could not hide my anger. "What, in the Dark Goddess' name is _that_?"

Beyond the honest industry of the armourium, beyond the slow beaten battle-plate and forged blades, beyond the Scorpion spear throwers and iron chariots, was an abomination.

Bastian looked back as he finished stuffing his elongated tower warden pipe with moldy leaf tobac, incredulous to my genuine concerns. "Fragmentation, scrap, the mangled remains of your foes. They are what we could scavenge before we had to leave Volus to its fate."

In the back of the forge, on half a dozen tables ranked up being categorized, examined, and tested, were the remains of the Flayed Ones. Heads, fingers, limbs, even broken portions of their broken weaponry were under the intense scrutiny of Bastian's servants. Even from the long distance between myself and the scrap, the urge to grip my dao deepened.

I began to cross the threshold with Bastian besides me. "They are inactive, I take it?" It seemed like a redundant question to ask, but I needed to feel at peace with my surroundings. If I could not feel safe in _this_ castle then where could I?

Bastian nodded. "Indeed they are. But even by examining the inert pieces of them we can figure out how to bring ruination to them should they attack us again." The fact the Harlequin Count could neither see nor appreciate the danger in bringing this flotsam into our fortress only served to show the gulf between us in sharper relief.

I walked through the workshop, Bastian following, and approached one of the work benches where a servitor was toiling over an array of limbs, heads, even torso sections. I reached out to one of the silver skulls, its rictus grin mocking me even in destruction, but fell just short of touching it. "How is it that they are even here? When I fought them, they self-repaired if the damage wasn't extensive enough while those that did fade from existence. How is it that there is even a piece left to study?"

"Apparently the survivors of Volus discovered a unique way of doing it, through natural magnetism." Bastian explained as he held of a jagged rock that pulsed with magnetic flow.

I scoffed at the notion. "Really? A border city with rudimentary technology and understanding managed to achieve what baffled even the most capable of our battle mages? Using nothing more than magnets and a theory?"

"Between you and me, I was similarly ill-convinced, my good sir. But…" Bastian lit his pipe and gestured to the rows and rows of tables filled with the remains of those who had humbled me.

"I would not have sanctioned such a thing to have happened." I muttered under my breath. There was one skull that stood out to me in particular. Something about it was out of place and it seemed to call to me.

"His King and Her Majesty agree that finding out as much as we can about these… Flayed Ones will help us to either communicate with them or to find a way to fight them admirably." Bastian said with his dark umber eyes seeming like ink spots in the darkness that glowed with the embers of the tobac burning.

"We fought… admirably enough." I said distantly as I examined the skull there was something about it, something that drew me in like a siren calling to a sailor. Beckoning, enticing-

I felt the shadows close, the veil around me tightening and suffocating. Bastian's next words were lost in this fog, as was my response. All I could see was the skull, the eyes aglow, its haunting smile locked in death. I reached for my blade, but grasped air and neither hilt nor scabbard. Legs buckling, unable to hold my weight, I fell to my knees and gasped.

The air would not come. I was drowning with no ocean for miles, save the one of oil and blackness devouring me. Everything surrendered to the dark. Bastian, the armourium, the serfs, my armor – all were consumed. Only I remained, staring down at the lidless orbs of that gilded, grinning skull. Eyes that showed the pain and suffering it would inflict on all those I could care about, from former lovers to my own nation. The skullmask spoke, mocking me with a damnable face and that skinless voice hounded all of my senses.

" **I am death…** "

The last of my breath ghosted the air as an icy chill overcame me. I felt ice underfoot along with the frigid chill of the harsh winds, though I was still inside the Castle of Crimea, and a low rumbling tremor in its frigid depths...

I breathed and the darkness crowding my vision bled away at once like ink dispersed in water. The ice melted. I resurfaced from the vision. The flayed one's skull helmet clutched tight in my hand as if it was a prop and my torment was a deep monologue. The eyes were dead, lifeless and without a glow to show that it yet carried life. A rusty patina weathering cheeks, pate and temples of gunmetal grey. Not gold. Not the king. Not here.

Bastian was gone – only the serfs were left – and I assumed he had let me stay here to peruse the battlefield relics as if I alone could unlock some secret by merely looking at them. He hadn't realized I had become lost in a dream, and nor had I.

The wound in my side flared anew and I grimaced to keep the pain at bay. My armor was waiting for me, a gift from Bastian before he left to some other part of the foundry. I took it, eager to leave the Royal Armory and the unquiet resonance it had stirred within. I needed to ease my mind. It had been never so pure and focused as when in combat. I headed at once for the battle-cages.


	3. Enveloping

**Here I am with another update, Uni started again so hopefully I can keep updating at a reasonable pace.**

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I met two old comrades in the sparring arena. Oscar and Kieran were the only warriors sparring that night, and I crossed a gloomy threshold of empty battle cages to meet them. The two Knights had apparently traded blows for a considerable amount of time with the quarterstaves they used for practice weapons.

"Oscar and Kieran!" I made my presence known over the punishing din of the sparring. The two fought in an open shallow pit which could be filled with a variety of terrain to keep their alertness sharp. They fought in loose sand, trading blows with their iron studded hardwood staves. To my trained eye, I could see that Oscar was the one who would come out on top in this fight. Kieran was well rounded with a strong arm needed for the massive axe he would wield, but when it came to speed Oscar was a man with few peers. Thankfully, they were here to practice their forms and not to incur Mist's wrath by needlessly harming each other.

"Hold." Oscar's calm voice and outstretched hand ceased Kieran's strike. My two second in commands had their faces mildly beaded with sweat and were short of breath. Both of them saluted me with their weapons to their chests and a bow of the head. "Commander Geoffrey, I am glad to see you return to us."

"A thousand hussazs to your recovery! There is no way those metal beasts could have killed you whilst I stood!" The fanaticism in Kieran's voice was, like Bastian's theatrics, a welcomed relief by my own surprise. Thankfully he was not as loud as he normally was, otherwise the whole castle could hear him, even over the ringing anvils.

"Agreed. It does my soul well to see that you are once more among us." Oscar nodded, his dark jade hair bobbed with his head.

"Well, I had hoped to bless this reunion with a little honest combat." My reply was met with a wolfish grin from Kieran, who tossed me a staff and stood aside so that I could enter the arena.

"Then let us see what benedictions you might offer, great Commander." Already my two opponents had begun to measure my combat efficacy. The looked eager to see how keen my fighting edge was after my humbled bout against the Flayed Ones.

So was I.

Bastian would be annoyed if I scratched the paint on my armor so quickly, but it was always my firmest belief that every suit of armor needed some training scars before it went into battle proper.

If I used my spear or dao here in the sparring area, it would heap shame upon both them and myself. The quarterstaff was a suitable replacement and training with it could be translated over into other aspects of fighting. "We should wear our helmets, only the proud and soon to be dead go without it in battle." I said as I strapped my helmet to my head and slammed down the visor guard in the shape of an eagle's beak. Oscar and Kieran placed their helmets on as well, though because of their position did not have a face plate as mine. Soon they would, given the many accolades they have both received in the past few years.

They fell to a combat ready stance, each of their eyes poised to tear me apart limb from limb. I adopted a defensive pose and gave a beckoning gesture with my head. They did not hesitate as they came for me, it would appear that their petty rivalry would not hinder them when they fought together.

The sound of the hardwood crashing against each other rang through the empty arena. Maple against oak, brass studs struck steel rivets. Kieran came down with a brutal chop, the manner of axemanship evident in his fighting style, and I managed a hasty block in response. In doing so, however, I opened myself for a jab by Oscar, and he slammed the tip into the breastplate on my solar plexus and sent me tumbling to the ground. I coughed for air and got back on my feet. Oscar and Kieran were ready for me, so I ordered them to attack again.

We traded a flurry of blows this time, and slowly I was beginning to feel like my old self again as I moved through the traditional martial forms and disciplines. Strike, bash, counter, jab. Strike, parry, feint distract. All of it was returning to my body and I was soon holding my own, even though I was caught off guard by Kieran bashing the side of my head with his staff. My head felt a ringing sound like no other as I collapsed into the sand. Oscar was about to shame me by offering a hand up, but I stood again. Enough toying around. "Do it again."

"Alright, this will make three." Oscar said it with a hit of a smile. Now I seethed with unjust anger. I came in low, causing a dent in Kieran's shin guard and placed the fiery redhead down on the ground. Oscar threw up an awkward block at my next attack and I pressed my advantage by pushing him back further and further until the inevitable happened. Oscar tripped over his own two feet and I stabbed the quarterstaff down on his breastplate.

We went back to our starting places and attacked again. Now fully embraced in the field of battle, I fought with all of the stamina I had. My two opponents had begun to show signs of fatigue and I pressed that advantage. I pushed Oscar aside with a powerful sideswipe of my staff and I had set my sights on my own deputy commander.

As I attacked with all of my training, I felt a background pulse directly behind my eyes. It was like an immense headache, a drum inside my skull and it pounded in perfect rhythm with my heartbeat.

Shadows flooded the arena that housed the battle-cages. It had been this way since I had entered it, but now the darkness began to coalesce and I felt it close around me like a slowly clenching fist. A silent predator had laid in wait, it crouched at the edge of my vision and from somewhere distant I felt a chill enter my bones.

There was wind, a howling like a wolf mourning loss on a midnight clear. Then it began to snow. The arena far from my thoughts as an arctic tundra emerged and overwhelmed my senses. In my hand I held the Tempest Dao. At the edge of a frost encrusted ruin, the shroud of shadows continued. From that obsidian pit, a figure emerged.

" ** _I am death incarnate_**."

The lord of the Flayed Ones had returned, in all of his terrible and gilded majesty. The ice beneath my feet had begun to beat like some immense heart as he unsheathed his war glaive. Within seconds, it ignited the very air around it as the crackling emerald flame coated the blade.

We clashed there on the field, the Dao held in my gauntleted fist, Elincia's blessed name unsheathed like another weapon upon my lips. The king swung his war-scythe around, the great reaping edge like a crescent moon cut from the bleakest night and fashioned into a weapon. Our blades struck together in a cascade of sparks and we then broke apart.

I took a moment's respite, but the Flayed One needed none, his anima fueled by some ancient will and driven by the metal he had surrendered his mortal flesh to become. Massive, overpowering, he loomed over me in seconds. His looked into my own eyes and I could see them clearly. They were heavy with what seemed like a thousand years of war, death, betrayal, and anger.

"Not again! I am a Lion of Crimea! I am the Warden of Melior, a Slayer of Kings!" I made the vow and with a fury borne of desperation mixed with hatred, I attacked. I swung in from the side, shattering the war glaive and rendering it a useless weapon. The monster raised his hands in surrender, but I would have none of it. "No mercy for you."

I began to rain blow after blow upon the beast until my shoulders ached and my lungs were fit to burst. Breath would not come, I was drowning in this sea of nothingness as the shroud of shadows crept once again into my vision. It consumed my tormenter and had begun to rob me of my prize.

"NO! I will not be cheated! Not again, Not-" I fell to floor thinking I was to cough up fluid but I brought up only air, I saw Kieran. The staff was shattered in half and it laid broken before him. His armor was dented in several places, his jaw was bleeding and many bruises covered his face. His face was awashed in shock and anger. "My brother-"

Despite my wounding of him, Kieran rushed up to catch me with air would not come to my lungs. Oscar was not far behind and rolled me to my back. At the doleful clang of our armor meeting, I resurfaced from the dream and the pool of dark imaginings in which I had been choked.

"Commander Geoffrey?" I waved their concern away as I rose to my feet.

"I am alright, Oscar. Kieran, what of you?" I gestured to his face and battered war plate.

"A scratch." It was a lie. He frowned and looked at me with knitted eyebrows. "What caused you to lose reign of your senses?"

I saw no reason to hide the truth from them, so I told the two everything, about my slayer reborn, about the battle I believed to be fighting against him. "I could have killed you."

"You could have, noble Commander. But you did not." Kieran tried to reassure me, but I was unconvinced. I could have, Ashera's mercy I almost did so.

Something then caught my eye, and I reached for my blade. "What is it?" Oscar asked as he handed Kieran his axe and picked up his own lance. Something was not right in the air, there was something else here.

"Are we alone?" I whispered and began to slowly walk to the exit of the arena as Oscar nodded. "Well not anymore." My eyes never left the space from which I had seen movement and the three of us moved to where I gestured the enclosing maneuver.

Besides battle-servants to practice form and stamina upon, there were rows upon rows of dummies new weapons would be tested upon. There was one in particular that had caught my attention. There was ruffles on the corner of the limbs. It looked much like the flesh flayed from an innocent civilian from Volus.

I could swear that its eyes were also aglow.

Before either could stop me, I drove my Dao forward and pulled the interloper from the rack and was about to finish it off when Oscar stopped me. "Commander." He sounded worried, though it was directed at me and not our opponent.

Kieran interjected. "It is just a dummy, not even an enchanted one." I looked down and saw that they were correct. The flesh was just a torn grain sack and there was nothing special. No assassin clothed in flesh this time.

"Strength of the laguz,"I swore under my breath, "perhaps it appears I left the care of Mist too soon." I said as my sword hung loosely by my side in my slacked fist.

To his credit, Kieran tried to comfort me. "Great Commander, you were in a life preserving coma. Some… after-effects are not uncommon." I grunted in response, the equivalent of a vocal shrug. I was to speak again when there was a ringing of bells that filled the air. My heart quivered as I heard the noise. Oh no, it could not be.

"Has it been that long?" I knew I had answered my own question, but I still needed to ask it.

"Long? For what?" Oscar asked as he slung his spear over his shoulder.

"I am to present myself before Elincia and Tibarn and be judged for my command of Volus. I thought I had longer to prepare…"

Kieran gripped my shoulder pad. "It would be my honor to accompany you to the Hall of Tellius."

"As would it be mine." Oscar said as he grasped my other shoulder plate.

"Aye, that will do." I gripped one of their own shoulders in response. They were two loyal soldiers and honorable men any general could have under their command. "Gratitude, brothers." We left for the Hall of Tellius, and a meeting with their most august rulers.


	4. Fear

**I think I am surprising myself with how fast I am putting out these chapters. I have not been this fast in a year or so. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

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The King and Queen of Crimea and Phoenicis were seated upon their thrones like a battle couple of old lore. Replete in their war panoply, my heart both swelled with pride and trembled with awe at the sight of both Elincia and Tibarn.

Despite no formal war or other military action taken place since my fall, Elincia wore a formal battle plate, festooned with many laurels and awards. A pair of powerful enchanted gauntlets clothed her hands as she held her sword Amiti point down in front of her. I felt a cold sweat run down my neck. It was a blade that would only be used in battle or execution. She had not done the latter, but it appeared I might be the first. Her hair was green as the North Sea, and she looked sternly at myself and the others gathered in her midst.

Tibarn looked even less welcoming, the King of the Hawks was not one known for forgiveness when he was accosted or shamed. He was the supreme commander of the army, and I feared my command would provoke his hand. His coal black hair was tied back with a bandana, though I could see his brow twitch with impatience at me. The look in his golden eyes was what upset me the most. They looked at me like a predator would to a prey it would soon devour.

"Knight Commander. Come forward." Elincia's voice was solemn and filled with command, betraying little emotion as she called me by my formal title. She never did that, at least not alone. It was always Knight Commander Geoffrey of Delbray when in the company of others. I could tell that she was upset with me, and my fate would not be kind if I was judged incompetent.

I began my slow walk which echoed down the great stone walk way, the distance seeming as if I was walking the final mile to the headsman's axe. Oscar and Kieran had come as far as the great bronze doors. There I had bid them to stay, despite their offers to the contrary. I did not want them caught up in any of this. Any judgement against the actions of Volus were mine to bear alone.

As I walked I passed under looming archways where Crimea's greatest heroes were personified in the form of great unmoving statues. I saw Helvetius, Galatian, Titus, and Ike who seemed to be judging me with the weight of their eternal stares. Each one of them appeared to be the block of marble that held up the ceiling just as they had held up our nation. I would not be found wanting under their gaze.

The huge archways had shadows crawl within their lofty vaults, though my eyes strayed for but a moment, I quickly forced them back to the situation at hand. I was soon aware that I was not under the gaze of the royals but those of Renning, and his entire cohort of the honor guard. They were covered in sapphire plate and cloth, armed with elegant blades and powerful crossbows.

I focused my gaze on the fair queen, her amber eyes held a pang of sorrow for me, though wheater that was because of our former relationship or the sadness that I was once a great general who had learned a lesson in humbleness by a creature without fear I could not tell.

Where had we gone wrong? We were childhood friends, she and I. I was her knight from boyhood who became a man and protected her more times than there were stars in the night sky. I had made plans a year after the final war to make my feelings known to her upon the balcony with the winter aurora dancing through the night sky. The night of the dancing lights, I made my way to her chambers only to see her embracing the Hawk King's wings. I cried in frustration, the first time since childhood could I remember those wet lines down my face. But I could never forget the way the lights seemed to encircle her head like a halo.

As I continued my walk forward I saw a trick of the light that seemed to be exactly like the halo I saw on her head. I continued with only the briefest break in stride. As I got closer I noticed that what I thought to be a trick of the light was an actual glow. No, wait a mark.

It was viridian green, and I was too late to realize what it meant.

"Get down!" Renning reacted first to my warning. He placed his armored bulk between me, as I ran down the walkway, and Elincia who was at the other end. He thought I had lost all sense and was prepared to violently knock some back into me. I had drawn my sword, igniting the blade with the azure light of its power.

That prompted the honor guard to draw their loaded crossbows and take aim at me. I pointed up in the shadow filled rafters, to stop my comrades from executing me on the spot. "Up there!" Renning saw it too, crouched like an iron gargoyle, the darkness as its cloak. A single eye betrayed its position, but we would be far too late to prevent it achieving its goal. In truth, the glow was that of a targeting optic, and Elincia was in the crosshairs.

A long, slender crossbow unlike any design I had ever seen slid into its hands. I watched as it shouldered the weapon and a malachite colored bolt was exposed and was aimed at Elincia. Reality slowed, as if the assassin was chronologically a few seconds ahead of us in a different river of time.

The bolt was expelled from the crossbow. There was no recoil, just the bolt released from the weapon like a breath to a living creature. I followed the bolt in my peripheral vision while I channeled my fury into the Tempest Dao. A ball of blue lighting formed at the tip of my blade, where it grew to the size of a medium fruit and I flicked the blade to send the arcane attack at the monster as the honor guard began to unload their first volley of crossbow bolts. It was an unusual attack, and was often frowned upon by conventional fighters, but I was far from conventional.

Elincia let out a mixture of a scream and a grunt, like someone had knocked the wind out of her brutally followed by a choking sound. She had risen when she heard my warning and was struck by the bolt. She collapsed back into the throne but sprawled forward and rolled down the steps threat led to her throne. Tibarn lunged at her like a wounded beast as the royal guard obliterated the lofty space above us with explosive quarrels. This was the Hall of Tellius, and we had wrecked it like a band of careless thieves.

Time resumed and there was no remain of the assassin. The Flayed Ones faded out of existence when they were destroyed or else they would have begun to self-heal. Only we had not destroyed this assassin, not even close.

The honor guard formed around the sprawled Elincia like a cocoon of steel. Blood tricked forth from her mouth in a frothy mixture as the missile had ruptured her gorget. Poison, the coward tipped the bolt with a powerful toxin. Bloody tears fell from her eyes as they began to cloud over with a milky whiteness. Tibarn was seething with rage and grief, his howl was shattering at the sight of his 'little rabbit', my beloved queen at the mercy of fate. She began to convulse and soon she fell still. Her breast still rose and fell, but it was faint and weak.

I wanted to stoop down and to embrace her, to offer up my own life in the place of her own. She was my queen, my liege, and my blessed friend. But I could not. I was forced to only watch as Tibarn enveloped her in his brown hawk wings. They had enough to worry about, I would only serve as a distraction to them right now.

With the immediate danger passed, Renning and the honor guard would take care of the fallen queen. "Stay with the king and queen," I told Renning as I started off in a loping run towards the bronze doors, the marble heroes above urging each of my footfalls. Each step was punctured by a glance upwards, into the shadowy heights that hid killers of queens and monsters of blackest hearts.

I burst through the massive doors and saw that Oscar and Kieran had their weapons in hand, clearly they had heard the sounds of battle from inside the bastion. "What has happened?" They asked before they broke out into a run to keep pace with me. My sword was held thightly in my grip as I continued my trek down the hall.

"The enemy is inside the Castle of Melior. A Flayed One has just tried to assassinate Queen Elincia."

"Blood of Antila, is she?" Oscar did not want to finish the thought, but I knew what he was going to ask. As he kept step, I spared him a glance.

"She lives. She _will_ live." Oscar would chastise himself later, right now we had bigger concerns. I needed answers, and I thought I would know how to find them.

I reached into a leather pouch attached to my belt and pulled forth a rune carved crystal. I was about to message Bastian but the chime of warning bells told me I was too late. As if in response to the fear in the air, the torches and candles that aligned the wall had begun to flicker almost in time with the bells, which casted the floor a sickly monochrome.

My crystal glowed and slowed my stride to receive it. "Lord Renning."

" _Geoffrey. We are heading to the hospital, Tibarn is with us as well. Mist awaits us there. Elincia lives though it appears vulnerary can only reduce the effects._ "

"And where is the alert coming from?"

" _The royal armory, east wing_." The reply almost caused me to drop the crystal.

All my fears suddenly crystallized. The memory of the Flayed One 'corpses' returned, those that were too badly damaged to self-repair but unable to phase out. Only they weren't damaged. It was a ruse and in our ignorance we had invited them into our bastion, our home. I wanted to strike something in anger, but I bit back my outrage and replied Renning.

"Keep with them. Oscar, Kieran and I are on our way there now." I cut the link between us and we continued with an even greater sense of purpose in our stride. The Lord of the Castle had his niece to be concerned about. I would find answers soon enough.


	5. Slaughter

**Another chapter in only a few days, I hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy.**

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As we made our way to the east wing of the Royal Armory, I felt my stomach churn with nausea at the sight of the strangely empty hallways. Then I saw the shroud of shadows at the end of an intersection ahead of us. Something resided in it, made of living metal and eldritch fire. "Tell me I am not the only one who sees that."

Oscar and Kieran shook their heads and readied their weapons. The horrors of metal strode froth from the shadows. Their armor was polished to a gleam, though through several vents I could see green smoke emitted from the viridian fire that burned within them. They stood defiant and stoic, though the aura of their souls were permeated by the malice they carried.

The Tempest Dao flared to life in my hands and I raised it in the form of salute to my opponents. The sword was a weapon descended from the foundation of House Delbray, and I was the ruler of the noblest realm of all Crimea. I brought honor to my ancestors every time I strike down the foes of Kingdom. Flayed One armor is formidable, but they would not stop my assault. These were of the warrior caste, I judged by their lack of ornamentation. They were the mere foot soldiers for their dark empire.

I lunged forward with a mighty battle cry on my lips, striking down low against the unyielding defenses of the dead. "For Elincia!" The one I was to attack swung his bastard sword down to intercept my own blade. We met with a loud crash of metal against metal. My two sub-commanders responded to their own, Oscar brandishing the mighty Wyrmslayer pike while Keiran fought with a weapon he forged from his own hand, Libertas.

These bastards we fought may have been simple grunts compared to their overt leaders, but they were still very formidable opponents. They fought sluggishly, the dark magic gave them form but the speed was something they could not truly replicate. I felt the rare emotion of fear claw at my stomach as I wondered what exactly these creatures would have been like in their prime.

I slashed off the arm of my first opponent and bisected his head clean from his shoulders. Another instantly was upon me and I forced myself into a defensive stance against the murderous onslaught of the monsters. Oscar and Kieran were scarcely having much more luck. They may have been skilled opponents, but we learned our bitter lessons from Volus. The most important one was never to underestimate the opponent you fought.

Oscar impaled one on a lance before he twisted the point more and pulled it out to deliver another blow. The flayed one could handle one blow and easily repair itself, though two in such rapid succession proved to be its downfall. It disappeared into a shower of enchanted flashes before a bitter smoke wafted from the place the monster once stood.

"I am the hand of the General! I will broke no insults upon his honor or my own!" Kirean's fanaticism echoed in my ear as he cleaved through two of the lower caste in a single swoop of his axe. One reached out with dagger-like fingers and slashed down across his face. The scream of pain cut his boasts short but they were superficial. Painful, but not debilitating or lethal.

I drove my Dao through the gorget of one and brought the energized blade down until that one monster was half the individual he was before. As they evaporated into nothingness, I sheathed my sword in the scabbard. It seemed pointless because I knew there would be more coming, but I could strike opponents down when I drew it from my sheath.

Oscar pulled his spear out of the disintegrated remains of one opponent and he revealed a gouge in his armor. His armor was simple steel, no runes of warding or enchanted components, and the flayed ones tore through it as if it was made of tin. "How many of these things await us?"

I shrugged as we proceeded with caution, we were near the Armory and they surely would have heard the sounds of battle. "From the sheer amount of tables needed to hold all of the remains, no less than four dozen."

Kieran wiped the blood from his face, grimacing at the pain as he did so. "Do you think they could establish a foothold here? Use dark magics to open a gateway to let more in?"

I gave Kieran a reassuring glance. "I will see to it that never comes to fruition."

Ahead of us the east wing of the Royal Armory beckoned. The entryway was torn open like a cocoon, and the lights showed by the forges' dying embers showed the horror within, as if the smell of coppery iron did not alert us before.

The forge was a scene of carnage, and it took all of my willpower to hold back the contents of my stomach again. Blood streaked the walls and the various tools used by the servants of iron. Oils and ungues mixed with less savory liquids, and there was no care or reservation taken in the slaughter of these men. Beorc and laguz died together, their faces twisted in fear and pain. Out of the corner of my eye, as I sloshed through the lake of liquids, I saw a hawk laguz with his wings torn from his back and feathers hung from his mouth. They forced him to eat his own wings as he died.

I then saw Bastian, and I felt my grief redouble.

The Count was dead, split from groin to neck in a single swipe of an energized blade. With such strength, Bastian's protective wards did nothing to stop it. He laid face down, his unblinking eyes opened in shock as visceral organs mixed with the torn cloth of his robe. What remained of Bastian of Fayre was vented out and strewn like offal. This was no way for an honorable warrior to die. The flayed ones had robbed him of his last glory in life.

I brought down a gauntleted hand and closed his eyes. Even the dishonored dead deserve a peaceful eternal slumber. I noticed that clenched in his hand tightly by rigor mortis was his prized hand crossbow. It was a compact weapon, already loaded with an explosive bolt and a quarrel of more laid not far. I whispered a plea of forgiveness as I removed the weapon from his dead hands.

For a moment I screwed my eyes shut, marshalled my anger, and tried to turn it into something useful. The sensation of drowning came back, and the darkness in my mind's eye returned with it. I fought it down, and clenched a fist to stay focused. Whatever trauma I was to experience would have to wait. I was determined to master it. I addressed my two compatriots who themselves were granting eternal slumber to those whose eyes were still open.

"A fearsome foe is loose inside of the halls of this mighty bastion. It has already laid our queen low and now it seeks to draw us into their claws as well." I gritted my teeth. "But he will not succeed. We will rouse our brothers in arms and take the fight to them. We will find them, destroy them and hurl them into hell's toxic mouth."

I made the vow as my two subordinates nodded grimly and turned to leave the dead. There was nothing we could do for them now, and if we dilly dallied here any longer, the cost would be high. More bodies would be laid to rest in the mausoleums and upon the Phoenicis' winds as ash if we did not act.

"Commander!" Oscar pointed forward and he raised his lance as he did so. The veil of darkness was there, a reality before me and not an idea that danced at the edge of my subconscious. I drew the Tempest Dao and felt the energy run along the blade as I saw who my foe was. It was the assassin, the slender weapon of death held in his hands.

"By Ashera's mercy, I will have that bastard's head…" But this warrior was not alone. Three more strode into view with powerful weapons of their own, ones with designs inconceivable from my memory. They were archaic and crafted with grim malice. One of them also had a crystal vial of a nauseous looking chemical. A hideous vapor that faintly smelled like almonds wafted from the canister, and in that moment I knew what it was.

They loosed the poison in our direction and we were forced to duck back behind the walls of the armory. I pulled free the hand crossbow and let loose an explosive bolt that hit the assassin clean between what I assume the eyes would be. Unprepared for the onslaught, the assassin did not have the time to engage the chronometric device that slowed time for others and his head was evaporated in alchemistic fire. I felt some satisfaction as I watched Elincia's would-be killer crumple and fade from existence.

Resurrect from that.

The poison was stagnant and the smell overwhelmed us, but the noxious fumes did not. I cupped a hand to my face to filter it out as the sensation overloaded my mind. The clacking of their metal feet told me the true intention of the weapon. It was both a toxin to sow death through the lines but also to provide cover for their advance. They would set the terms to their liking, not our own. We could not engage them with what we had to bear.

"Here!" Kieran tossed me a glowing orb from the other side of the doorway. "You can never be too prepared."

I caught it and looked at him with some concern. "Even in the Castle of Melior?" He shrugged. My deputy commander handed me a creation our battle mages had been working on for a long while. Trapped inside this orb was a single charge of lightning suspended in a very volatile gas. A deadly weapon, but worth the risk.

"Get back!" I bellowed the command and we took off deeper in to the armory. Once the flayed ones were under the gate, I tossed the orb at the support that held the entrance up. We ducked behind some of the forges as the glass orb struck the stone.

Instantly the light and screaming noise filled all of our senses as the wall and ceiling gave way. Outside the Armourium, the dust was still settling. Chunks of debris fell from the ceiling and where internal support was exposed, like that of a gutted beast of earth.

Our enemies were trapped, but already the veil of darkness was beginning to coalesce again. Kieran raised his axe but I seized his arm and urged him away from the rubble. "Come on. We need to gather more soldiers to the fight."

I scarcely made it more than two footsteps in the other direction when the crystal raised me. It was Renning, and I knew it would not be good. " _Geoffrey, we are in the hospital but we are under attack. The flayed ones have found their way here and Queen Elincia is in mortal danger. I have no idea as to how much-_ "

He was cut off with a sharp squeal. I tried to contact him again to finish his thought but my communication crystal failed to work. Something must be interfering with the river of magic.

Like smoke on the wind, the shroud of shadows abated and moved elsewhere. It was set on a singular purpose, and I knew that the royal family of Crimea was in its sight. Grim-faced, we made all haste to the place of healing. I prayed to all that was considered holy that we would not be too late.


	6. Defeat

**Almost done with this story, an unusual feat all things considered. I hope to get the final chapter out this weekend. Please enjoy.**

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Despite the clanging of the alarm bells and the flickering torches that painted everything we saw in disgusting monochrome, there were no other Royal Knights or guards that we saw. The Castle of Melior was uncomfortably silence, and it unnerved Oscar. "Where are the others?"

I shook my head as we hurried down the ghost like hallways. Each of my attempts to use the crystal to communicate with Renning and others was met with cold silence. "Engaged against the flayed ones. They are too busy to return our messages or are too far away to make any difference. That can be the only option."

It was a lie. My two subordinates looked unconvinced. So was I.

There was another one and Kieran looked knowingly to Oscar as if he nonverbally said it. I knew what the other option was, and I did not to say it.

No further encounters with the flayed ones held us up before we reached the apothecarion. As we stood at the end of the short hallway to the chamber's entrance, I realized why.

There was no entrance. It had been entirely consumed by the veil of darkness.

An ethereal wind sung in the air, drowning out the chiming of the bells. It was as if the shadow became sentient and in response to our presence, belched out nightmares of skinless flesh wrapped in living metal. It twisted and unraveled like mortuary drapes, each time it brought forth another warrior.

Three of the flayed ones stood with proud tower like shields that pulsed with some long forgotten energy. Three armored warriors stomped towards us, coffin-shaped shields locked together in the manner of some ancient empire. Unlike the other flayed ones we had faced, these carried energized khopesh blades and were emblazoned with dynastic symbols. I knew a warrior elite when I saw it. I also knew who they were protecting.

A slender flayed one, not an assassin but one nobility cowered behind this wall of formidable guardians. Stone like lapis lazuli accented his mechanized body in long strips and a gilded beard clasp protruded from his chin. In one metal-fingered hand he carried a staff; the other clutched the tethers of the veil. Here was the architect of darkness. And it was through him we would have to go if we were to reach our stricken Queen. As his guardians marched towards us, the Baron extended a talon in our direction. His voice echoed with the resonance of ages. " ** _Defilers. Infidels. You are an inferior species, lesser in every way to the calligans. Behold what your arrogance has wrought. You will have all eternity to regret it_**."

I cracked a dry smile as I drew forth my sword. "Those are bold words. I believe they sound like a challenge." Oscar shouldered his lance and flicked out his compact bow and had already notched three arrows with small vessels of corrosive acid at the end.

"Which I gladly accept." He loosed the three arrows against one of the flayed ones, whose true name was the calligans I suppose. The three arrows shattered in a splash of the green liquid enveloped the tower shield wielding warrior. The acid quickly ate away the metal on the shield and exposed the dangerously unarmored soldier. Almost instantaneously, new metal from the shield began to branch out to repair the damage done to the piece of living metal but Oscar had tossed his bow to the ground and threw his wyrmslayer like a javelin. The lance struck the monster behind the shield and it collapsed in the death convulsions.

I raised my Dao to my eyes to salute the last two of the Baron's guardians. Oscar shook his head as he drew forth his falchion and stabbing dirk from his belt. "No Geoffrey." He pointed into the direction of the Baron and not his guards. Kieran also readied his axe and I knew what these two were willing to do. "Kill that thing."

"Aye, save the good queen!" Kieran exclaimed. After a moment's hesitation, I knew the fate my two second in command soldiers had condemned themselves to. Each one of these warrior elites were capable fighters against an entire platoon of Knights, two against two were not favorable odds.

With no further prompt needed, I ran down the corridor. One of the guardians stepped into my path but I parried its khopesh blade and thundered a kick into its lowered shield, smashing the flayed one aside. I heard Oscar and Kieran as both engaged them, with a cry of vengeance upon their lips. I did not stop to see how they fared, I leapt at the damnable nobel.

The ancient calligan recoiled, brandishing his staff defensively as vortices of shadow swirled around him. I watched the darkness retreat, like mist before the sun, carrying the baron with it, who clung on like some infernal passenger. I vaulted into the air, the sword of Delbray held aloft in a two-handed grip. As the blade descended, the vizier was already fading.

Cruel laughter echoed around me as I scythed through nothing, embedding my sword in the deck-plate underfoot with a resounding clang.

But I would not be denied, and gave chase into the apothecarion. Behind me, the two old rivals were fighting for their lives. I could not stop, or their sacrifice would mean nothing. The scent of my enemy still clung to me, and I hurried through the gaping doorway.

The baron had not run far, for inside the hospital the veil of darkness howled like a captured thunderhead. It bleached all vitality from the room and its occupants as if their very life force was being surrendered to sustain it.

Five figures stood in the center of the tempest whirling around them. Renning and two survivors from the honor guard along with Tibarn stood their ground against familiar flayed ones. Behind them, using her body to shield both Elincia and her child, Mist tried her best to counteract the poison that had ravaged Elincia's body Here they were, the ones we had fought on Volus. The skins of the dead clung to their metal forms. There was a score of them, brutal swords and maces in their hands as the survivors mounted one last final stand around the final mother of the Crimean house.

I entered the hospital and spied the reclusive baron, who was half smothered in shadows at the edge of the room. It looked at me and raised a gilded finger and pointed it at me. One of the monsters turned to face me and with the clack of the metal jaw, it sprang at me, this flesh-draped horror. I weaved aside from its reaching claws and cut its midriff, parted abdomen and torso through its spinal column. I didn't wait to see it dissipate, more were coming.

I shot one with my swiftly drawn hand crossbow. The burst took it in the chest, arrested its mad leap and sent it into ether. I aimed at a second but one of the flayed ones slashed my forearm, tearing up the vambrace and disarmed me. With a sweep the Tempest Dao, I decapitated it. A third I impaled through the chest, and staggered a fourth with a heavy punch. It was dazed, or rather I had forced the ethereal essence to recollect what had had just happened and it took a few seconds to adjust.

Long enough for me to cleave it open diagonally from shoulder to hip. It phased out in a flurry of sparks.

My efforts had gotten me as far as Elincia's cot. She looked as sickly and pale as I remember. Her chest was horrifyingly still, even though I had told myself she still yet drew breath.

I turned away and pointed my Dao at the baron in the back to direct Renning and Tibarn. "We need to take that thing out."

Renning scooped in low to take a relic blade from his fallen lieutenant, replacing his ceremonial gladius. The remaining held energized axes whilst Tibarn had his fists. Some eighteen calligans had been struck down around us. Several had phased out, but the rest were currently self repairing. In the encroaching veil of darkness, I saw more viridian balefires flicker into life as the gilded baron summoned yet more warriors "And how do you propose that we do that?" Tibarn growled under his breath to me.

I gulped hard. I knew of only one option. It was borderline suicidal but I had to do it. For Elincia, anything was worth the price to see my rose restored to health. "With courage and pride, Tibarn. He won't escape this time. Make me a breach with your warriors, and I'll pierce whatever passes for a heart in this thing."

"What of the queen?" One of the warriors asked.

Mist nodded and fed more vulnerary into Elincia as she rose. She wrapped Elena in the arms of Elincia to comfort the cry child and drew her sonic sword. "I will stay here, and defend our queen."

Renning looked to me, a flicker of concern danced across his face. "If this fails, you will be trapped in that horde."

"Aye, but you always did claim I was a reckless one." I marshaled my fear and griped my sword for what might be the last time. I knew why Bastian had always treated his weapons and charges like living creatures. They were at your side, in your hands when you needed them the most. I breathed a small prayer of thanks to the spirit of the sword, while also asking for one last victory and I would polish it like I have been meaning to do.

Self-repaired, several of the flayed ones jerked back to their feet. Their jaws clacked as if laughing, and sliced their talons against one another in anticipation of the kill. For animations of metal and fire they displayed an unnerving awareness of malice. The honor guard was ready, and I lowered my blade into a ready stance. "Cut deep…"

Renning and Tibarn led the honor guard against the assembled monsters. Their sudden attack briefly stunned the horde and for a few seconds they reeled against the First Captain' fury mixed with the King's grief. Renning used his bulk and strength to break the flayed ones apart, ignoring the claws that raked his armor. Tibarn was bleeding from several deep fissures across his chest but a fury born of anger kept his heart pumping. "Faith and duty!" The two roared together.

Through the flurry of axes, I saw mechanized limbs fall in a metal rain. Torsos were hacked apart, heads cleaved. Like their captain and king, the Honor Guard were brutal. Relentless.

My warrior's heart thundered with pride to witness such unstinting determination and bravery. Like a spear tip they had driven deep into the flayed ones, forcing a channel that thrust all the way to baron. Embattled on every side, Renning cried out and with one last effort made the breach I needed. "Do it, Geoffrey… now!"

The distance was short, my passage blocked only by broken calligans underfoot. I fixed the light blue orbs of the vizier with a glare that promised retribution. "For Crimea and Phoenicis!" My fury was unstoppable. "Here you will die!"

As I reached my enemy, I sprang into a shallow leap, using it to gain loft and additional momentum. With nothing held back, I struck down one-handed, putting every iota of strength I possessed into the blow. My Dao flared in my hand with the anger that burned inside my heart. I crashed down upon the raised staff and continued without pause down the skullmask. This was one of noble lineage and the warm feeling of blood splashed my face as I sheared him from his head down to his groin without pause.

Steel, skin, muscle, organs, bone… all of it was parted by the fiery edge of my blade. The baron fell to the ground a mess as I wiped away the visceral fluids from my face. Triumphant, I turned to Renning and Tibarn. The darkness was receding, my plan had succeed-

Renning was down, his armor form unmoving and the right arm that held the relic blade was three feet away. Tibarn was on the ground as well, his hand vainly grasping at air that would not come to his collapsed throat. The last two of the honor guard laid scattered around the ground with their internals now outside their body. Mist was wounded, her blood streaked form was at the feet of her assailent unable to move as she cried out for her child.

"No. No it cannot be!" I gasped out and tried to charge the one I saw but my feet gave way as breath escaped me as I collapsed to the ground, in a vain attempt to summon unseen fluid but it would never come. My sword felt heavy in my grip, and it tumbled out of my fingers.

An old enemy turned to regard me and in his fathomless gaze I saw the fall of empires and the terrible entropy of ages. He had returned.

The Gilded King of the Damned.

My nemesis.

The Undying of Volus.

" ** _I am the omega_**."

As the darkness closed in around me and I drowned again, I saw his obsidian edged glaive held over Elincia in an executioner's grip. There was no pity in his eyes, no mercy, not even malice, just a deep abiding ennui that presaged an end to all things.

The ice came back, crusting the ground and shawling my body in a sudden snowfall. Beneath it, I heard the beating hearts, they quaked the very earth. I gasped, but breath wouldn't come. Black spots flecked my sight, converging at the edge of my vision.

I raged, but knew that I was dying. My gauntleted fingers slipped from the sword's hilt and heard it clatter uselessly to the ground. I fell to one knee, then all fours. Crawling, still defiant, I felt the scrape of talons pin me as the flayed ones swarmed in to watch their master claim the kill.

Swallowed by a sea of cold metal, something seized my face and then a hand was clamped around my neck. A blade pierced my shoulder, another in my back and I was steadily transfixed.

I could only watch on in horror as the weapon was poised to claim the life of Elincia. I watched as little Elena was scooped up from the blade's edge, spared from the death that was to come to my queen. Though what horrors awaited the innocent child and her blessed mother I could not fathom.

The shroud of shadows claimed me once again, and I thought I heard far away voices but dismissed them as nostalgic memory. I had died on Volus and come back, but there was no returning from this.

I had failed myself, Mist, Renning, Tibarn, Bastian, Elincia... all of Tellius. My name would be marked in shame, but my personal dishonor would be nothing compared to the losses suffered today. Nothing would eclipse that fact.

A dense ball of white heat flared in my side prompting a gout of hot fluid to erupt from my throat, spewing up over my lips in a coppery wash. I spat it out, retching up the blood-


	7. Promises

**Well, the third story to this little saga of mine is finished. I felt as if I did the ending justice but with this type of ending it is like walking on a razor's edge. Thank you, and enjoy!**

* * *

No. It wasn't blood. It was the briny, amniotic soup Mist passed off as a healing tonic I could taste in my mouth. I opened my eyes and saw that a thin white cloth covered my eyes soaked in cold water.

Had I survived? Were the voices I heard real after all? Did Oscar and Kieran yet live? Did they muster reinforcements?

My mind overloaded with uncertainty and with my senses restored with searing intensity, I thrashed upon the bed. The feeding tube had come loose and I was drowning in the filth.

In mere moments, trained hands undid the belt straps and removed the feeding tube. I rolled over off the bed, sprawled out on all four coughing up this potion that had saved my life and kept it tethered to the world. My eyes looked up into the eyes of my healer. I could scarcely believe what they were telling me. "Mist?" I wheezed out with a weak voice.

Mist looked down upon me, and fashioned a warm smile. "Knight Commander, welcome back to the world of the-"

"You're alive…" I asked and cut her off mid-sentence. I staggered as I got to my feet. I was sweating with the intense biological rigors my body had just undertaken, and a little unsteady. Mist went to assist me, but my outstretched palm held her back.

"And so are you, Geoffrey. You were badly injured and had just this-"

"Injured? Where?" I interrupted her for a second time. "Here in the Castle of Melior?" Something wasn't right. An odd sense of recollection, a very mortal experience described as deja vu, that which is 'seen already', was affecting me. I remembered the chronometric device utilized by the assassin. I recalled how it had slowed time for a moment and wondered if I was somehow trapped within it.

"Volus." Mist's expression turned into an upset frown and began to run her staff over my body, as if it could tell her the reason for my sudden distemper. She shook her head and placed her spare hand under her chin. "You were struck down on Volus three weeks ago in fact. You have just this moment come back to consciousness." I heard cooing in the background and her smile came back. "It seems Elena welcomes you back as well."

I gazed around the shadows of the hospital. It was much as I remembered it from what I thought was real. But there were no shrouds of shadows, no darkness that hid monsters. Still, this wasn't right. "I was… drowning."

Mist's face became abruptly contrite and she bowed her head. "Apologies, Knight Commander. Your feeding tube came loose towards the end of your coma. You appeared to be an experiencing some form of a night terror, it is not uncommon. So close to revival, I could not adjust or replace the reed. It was like that for but a few seconds."

I shook my head, skeptic of it all. "But… it is impossible."

Mist held out her hands in a gesture that pointed to me and then to the entire room. "You are here. You are back with us once again." I scowled, and she rolled her eyes. "What is your name?"

"MY name?" I asked in a bothered tone. I was wounded on my side, not the head.

"Yes. What is it?" She asked patiently.

"Geoffrey of Delbray. I am still a master of my sense, Mist." I responded.

" _You do not seem it_." Another apparition appeared. Renning came forth from the shadows, just as he had before.

"Renning. I saw you fall." I said the words slowly, it sounded like Renning but I was unsure of it. That was his armor, the cloak around his shoulders, the sword at his side. It was unmistakably him.

The veteran commander held out his hands to me, as physical testament to his tangibility. "I am standing before you know, Geo." He unlocked his helmet from his head and placed it in the crook of his arm. "Son." He came over to me and placed his hand upon my shoulder firmly, but gentle at the same time. This aged and scarred veteran was trying to comfort me as a father would to his son.

I then realized the truth, and it redoubled my concern. "You are here to summon me before the King and the Queen, are you not?"

Nonplussed, Renning let go of my shoulder. "I am. Yes. How did you know?"

I didn't answer and then I turned back to Mist. "My Lady, tell me. Did we bring back anything from Volus… anything of the flayed ones?'

Mist slowly nodded her head. "Yessss-"

"And is it under Bastian's care in the east wing of the Royal Armory?"

Renning answered this time. "It is. What is this about, Geoffrey?"

I looked to him as I grabbed a green habit. It was a look of concern. "Do you have a weapon you could lend me?" Renning nodded slowly, not quite understanding what I was saying but trusted my instincts. He reached down to his side and unhooked a broadsword to hand to me. I appreciated the grip of the weapon when it was in my hand. I looked to the two with a look of urgency and certainty. "We need to get there at once, the Castle of Melior has been breached!"

* * *

Oscar and Kieran were on their way to the hospital when I met them in the hallway. I quickly told them what was happening and the five of us headed down the hallway to the Royal Armory. Mist had her sonic sword, whilst Renning had his saber and the two rivals wielded their respected weapons from my dream. "Should we invoke a castle-wide alarm?" Oscar asked as he looked to Renning.

" _Let us see what is in there first_." Renning had donned his helmet once more and I was unable to read his expression. Though I knew that he was full of doubt that the fortress was in real danger and did not want to create needless panic. Kieran looked over to Mist. The sister of Ike Greil hid her concern poorly, and only responded with a halfhearted shrug. I paid her no heed, we had arrived at the great door leading in.

I did not make my presence known ahead of time. I was insistent upon this. Whatever awareness the calligans had I did not want to have my forewarning activate them. I pushed the mighty doors open and breathed in the smell of fire and sweat. It was much as I remembered it, a hive of industry and labor, serfs and engineers hurrying back and forth, artisans engaged in their various tasks, arms and armor in various conditions of repair and restoration. And there, at the back of the expansive workshop, tended by a small army of menials, was the salvage from Volus.

Bastian turned his head with a flurry of his body. He had just finished working on my armor and weapons. "Great and noble commander, your timing as ever is impeccable."

"Thank you, Bastian. I do indeed hope so." His face changed from warm greeting to slight confusion as Renning, Oscar, Mist, and Kieran entered behind me. I anticipated his next question and got to the point. "Evacuate your laborers."

Bastian looked to Renning for confirmation. " _Do as he commands_ , _Count_." Like ants returning to the nest, the various workers left the chamber to other parts. None questioned their orders, but quite a few looked worriedly askance at the five soldiers in their midst.

"With me." I gestured an encircling command around the salvage, weapon in hand.

Bastian was not far behind me, and his protest was upon his lips. "My good sir, this is illogical. What are you trying to d-" Dozens of viridian eyes flared into life which halted Bastian's advance and had him instinctively reaching for his hand crossbow and spell book. "They are self-repairing!"

I raised the broadsword and scowled at the host, sword held aloft in a battle stance. "Not for long." We were upon them in an instant, and brought ruin to their prone forms. I swung my sword until the muscles in my arms ached while the others were doing the same with me. Every swing of our weapons brought death as we struck out with violent annihilation. Even Bastian did not stop until his quiver was empty. The back of the workshop was a scorched, ash riddled wasteland. It looked as if a battle had just taken place. Indeed it had.

And we won.

Renning sheathed his sword and looked around the armory. " _Whatever is left, incinerate it!_ " Oscar, Kieran and I had shifted through the wreckage. I shook my head after looking for any remains of our enemy. There was nothing left, the threat was taken care of.

Mist gestured to the carnage. "How did you know?"

What real answer did I have? I told Mist the only thing that made any sense. "I saw a darkness in my vision, and I swore that it would not come to pass."

Renning was more pragmatic. " _Whatever the cause for your clairvoyance, I for one am glad of it_ " He bowed his head to me. " _Gratitude, Geoffrey. But King Tibarn and Queen Elincia yet await._ "

* * *

Renning was insistent that I was cleaned and that I wore my armor for my audience with the rulers of the two nations. As from my half remembered vision, I walked under the archways with the weight of marble heroes that seemed to judge each of my footfalls. As before, I would not be found wanting under their gaze.

The Queen and King were dressed in regal clothes, not the suit of armor I recalled. Banners behind the two depicted a legacy of glory and honor. Renning was by her side, his own armor polished to a gleam. I stopped at a respectful distance and saluted the two. "Come forth, Geo." Elincia's voice held weight, but I winced at the informality of my nickname being used by her in such an atmosphere. She had not called me that since we were ten.

I obeyed her command and took a knee before the two rulers, head dipped to the stone floor. I bowed my head and felt my pulse pounding. "I stand here, and await your judgement."

Elincia rose from her throne and walked down the steps towards me. I soon felt both of her hands upon my shoulders as she knelt down to _me_. "Rise, my fair and noble commander. You are not being judged this day, though I had reviewed the engagement of Volus." I raised my head and saw her lovely amber eyes mere inches away from my own. I slowly did so and she rose with me. Tibarn himself rose from his throne and came down to join his wife.

"Milords?" I asked, unable to mask my confusion at this blatant disregard for tradition.

Elincia sighed and crossed her arms in mental exhaustion. It was not directed at me, but Volus itself it would seem. "Volus wounded all of us, but you and your knights had suffered it more grievously than most."

"It is a stain upon my honor." I growled, and I saw Tibarn nod in affirmation.

"One I will see removed personally, Geoffrey. I will not have this go unchallenged." Tibarn said.

Renning kept his studied silence, and my brow flurried. "Permission to speak freely?"

Elincia nodded. "Of course, you mustn't ask for permission though. I always have valued your blunt nature."

I nodded and placed my hands behind my back. "What exactly are you saying?"

Tibarn spoke this time, his voice was like the wind in a storm. Firm but wild. "In your unconscious visions, you saw the ice? You felt and heard the beating of the hearts?"

My voice caught in my throat at this revelation. "Yes."

Tibarn scowled, his thoughts seemingly confirmed. "It is the Gilded King mocking us. I feel it in my feathers, Geoffrey. He wishes to make us believe that nowhere is safe, not even in our own castle. He is mistaken, but he has had the last word for now."

Elincia nodded. "Be it one year, or ten, we are not done with Volus just yet. And it is not done with us."

The corner of my lips almost made it to a smile. But I would not. Not until this stain against me was rectified, and Volus avenged. "And I shall eagerly count the days until our return."

In the darkest corners of my mind, the gemstone skull mask spoke with me, his voice inside my head. This was no taunt from him, but one promise. We would meet again, and only one of us would walk away for the last time. As one, we swore the same oath.

" ** _This isn't over_**."


End file.
